


An Anticipated Appearance

by 100dabbo



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: 1997 UK Election, British Politics, Fantasizing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teenage!Ollie Reeder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: A Newsnight exclusive interview has been anticipated by Ollie all week, the Labour party leader joined by his new Director of Communications.
Relationships: Ollie Reeder/Malcolm Tucker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	An Anticipated Appearance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AbusiveLittleBun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbusiveLittleBun/gifts).



> For Ishtar, who with just one line single-handedly prompted this whole thing - I love you the most 🥰  
> P.S. Don't idolise politicians (unless they're dilfs)

The seasons were just about to transition from the spring to the summer, a liminal period of warm breezes and sun-drenched evenings to see the era of Ollie’s sixth form education draw to a close, carrying him on the path to exam period before university. His astounding grades and hard work earned had him a well-deserved offer from Cambridge a few months prior, standing out to be one of the proudest moments of his life so far. 

His academic achievements were finally starting to pay off, showing him that all the effort of extra study and classes and revision had paid off, that they were striving him to the success that he always hoped for. Ever since the inception for the thought to apply, attend and live in an Oxbridge setting came into his mind, it was unshakable from all intent he had, and thus the pride of his accomplishment was pinned to him like a medal on his chest, garnering all the praise he could hope for. 

Still, his home life and the people in it often failed him in this respect, creating an atmosphere of cold austerity to surround him, encouraging him to attain perfection without so much as a crumb of commendation for being so. All it really led to was his alone time serving him as the only moments of liberation he could endure; time in solitary without pressure and expectation.

He could have peace that way, catch up on his homework for the next day, revise a little for any upcoming mocks that would precede the real thing, and relax with a bit of his favourite TV shows before bed. Although, most times, the course of events failed to follow that order; he’d put the television on first of course, mock the presenters and hosts on screen to enjoy his own company for an hour or two before forcing himself to cram a bit of knowledge into his head during the small hours of the morning.

On one particular evening as it began to near half ten, when he’d finally settled down on the sofa, he made a grab for the remote to switch the channel to BBC Two, heart racing for the nightly episode of Newsnight to air. His excitement for it was just too, and not only because he was the politics obsessive that he was, but because of the election looming just around the corner. The episode had been anticipated since the day he read it in the Radio Times schedule earlier that week, its bright glossy page declaring right there in black and white: Blair would be joining Paxman for an interview, and not just any standard one to one, but one that’d be joined by his new Director of Communications, a man Ollie was yet to know anything about.

So, he sat through the majority of it, the general roundup of news that day being refreshed by a different presenter in a different studio with a different script, engaging entertainment so far as the stories were, all of it just facilitating the build-up and expectation of the reveal. His mind wandered while he listened with faint concentration; what the interview would entail, what questions would come up to either support or defame Labour’s intent, whether it would aid them in their essential victory or condemn them to another five years of working in the background.

He was just about lost in his own train of thought when a seemingly sudden switch of camera occurred, focusing back onto Paxman to once more catch Ollie’s eyes. Papers were shuffled in front of him and he leant forward in the traditional anchor style, and then he spoke the words Ollie had been waiting to hear all night,

“The Labour Party leader Tony Blair is with us now, joined by his newly appointed Director of Communications, Malcolm Tucker.”

The camera switched once more, directing at the two men that’d just been introduced; on the right, a face he knew well, one that he’d seen across screens and newspapers and magazines since he was politically aware, and on the left… one he wasn’t expecting to see to say the least. His hair was slicked back neatly, lips curled up with a warm smile back at Paxman and wearing a snappy suit to top it all off. He wasn’t all that young, but he wasn’t old either, maybe twice Ollie’s age or a little less, either way one of the most attractive men he’d seen in politics in a long time, if ever.

Paxman began with his lines of questions, though truth be told, Ollie could barely focus on the answers he was receiving, for his eyes and attention solely gave their consideration to the Director’s actions and expressions. A tongue darted out to lick the corner of his lip with a smile, his head turned away with feigned bashfulness, then he finally spoke,

“Well, I’m not too much in the public eye, they keep me inside because I’m too much of a rascal, Jeremy.”

God, he was Scottish. And he was funny. He was funny _and_ Scottish.

Blair and Paxman laughed, quickly getting back onto a subject that Ollie hadn’t got the faintest clue about. Each and every time the camera switched away, framing up the interviewer rather than the interviewees and the questions were conducted and poised to prompt for a desirable answer, Ollie only craved for it to switch right back to Tucker, a man who’d expressed his personality so far in just one line and a few glances, but was nevertheless so totally enrapturing that his face was begging to be seen again.

When it did rightfully return to him, his movements were the only thing Ollie could stare at that weren’t his face. He was using his hands to gesticulate, his thumb tucked into his palm to wave about, wrist laxing to point at the table in front of him for emphasis on his cordial and eloquent response. 

And that’s when Ollie saw it glimmering on his fourth finger. A wedding band of gold that was the sole cause of a panging jealousy suddenly striking in his heart. 

Pathetic really, he thought on immediate reflection, as if this politico, a man who could be assumed to be living in his fourth decade of life, would be at all attainable to a fresh-faced boy with mere dreams of entering the political sphere, still in education, only just gaining the steps towards university, like him. A nobody on the viewing end of the television screen.

With his teeth embedded into his lip, he pondered on what kind of wife he’d have at home, what she’d look like and how she’d feel about her husband being on national television for over two million viewers, maybe even more. He couldn’t help but think about when he was married, probably at a time way before he was a higher up within a party that was so close to winning the general election, an _age_ before watchers like Ollie had the chance to fawn over him in their living rooms.

He managed to snap himself out of it once the Director’s hands were put down, lacing themselves together on the table, flexing ever so slightly while his face concentrated on his party leader’s subsequent response.

The picture quality wasn’t the best, and he had his cheapskate father the blame for not buying the family a better set, but it was an exquisite image regardless, seeing him raise his hand once more just to flatten down his tie with his palm, his body shifting in his chair to cross his legs, his brows furrowing while defending an accusation placed upon his party. He wanted to stare at him forever, wanted to capture this moment in time and be able to replay it whenever he wanted to and-

Then he realised. He realised what he could do, how he could attain such a possibility.

His eyes flicked down to the television system sitting in the cupboard beneath the set. He knew there was a tape inside of it, a recording of the previous night’s football match, Lincoln vs. Chelsea, one his father had been meaning to watch for over a week, so long neglected now that it probably wouldn’t be missed. He’d must have forgotten all about it by now. He wouldn’t care if it was taped over to save this interview, right? Surely not, at least that was what Ollie was telling himself as he scrambled off of the sofa, frantically crawling ahead to press the record button and begin immortalising the interview on film.

He sat on his knees, looking up as the recording began, staring at the TV while the blinking red light on the deck confirmed its function. And then Tucker did it again. A chuckle at Paxman with a coy looking smile, a lick of his lip’s outer corner, and further speech to make Ollie yearn all the more,

“Well, Jeremy,” He said, his tone laced with the charm that any other amicable conversation may well possess, “I think it’s clear that our government just isn’t up to shape and, y’know, with my _clear_ and _obvious_ need to stay fit if you don’t mind me saying, Blair has to be the one to strive with this party to give all of us out there a better country to live in.”

No matter how sarcastically toned his boast was, no matter that the adjoining laugh and smile that Blair and Paxman gave Tucker in reply was only solidifying its humorous intent, Ollie was practically melting, prepared to stay by the TV all night with square eyes and a stiff neck just to keep that man in front of him, telling him how great Labour will be for the next generation entering the workplace and education. If he wasn’t already going to beg his parents to vote, he was now.

“And gentlemen, is there anything else you’d like to say to the people out there before next week’s election day?” Paxman asked them, Ollie’s eager heart begging for Tucker to answer for the two of them.

Blair looked at him, offering a hand gesture to give his Director free reign over the interview’s conclusion, and after a quick glance to the camera, either out of nervousness or to give notice to the audience, he quipped with a smile,

“I know all the good people of this country are going to make the right decision next Thursday, and I know all the good boys and girls will be wanting their parents to make that decision for the wellness of their future. Thank you, Jeremy, for having us on.”

With one more of his quick glances at the camera, it switched back to Paxman and the interview concluded, leaving Ollie to fall back and look at the ceiling blankly, holding in the moan that he so desperately wanted to expel for the entirety of that ten-minute piece of heaven. Once he regained the ability to sit up, he pressed the button to end the recording, ejecting the tape from the deck just to feel its warmth and look at it as the tangible evidence of his obsession. 

There was still a droning in the background, Paxman having changed the subject already, something Ollie no longer had any care for in the world. He was too busy thinking about what he’d just seen before his very eyes, that the tape would be his opportunity to relive it as many times as he wanted to. He had to hide it from his father of course, plead ignorance when he would ask about the football, only let himself bring it back out after his parents had gone to bed again.

 _‘All the good boys’_ was the line that repeated over and over in his head, along with the striking image of his coy look while the words were relayed.

He bit his lip, turning off the television and clutching to the tape, finally walking to his bedroom to complete the rest of his evening routine.

But revision could still wait another half an hour or so.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two is probably definitely absolutely gonna include a time-skip and some smut ;)  
> Thanks for reading :) Kudos and comments are appreciated ♥ Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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